My dad’s weekends were – among other things – about rounding up vinyl records at flea markets. We have thousands of them up in the attic back home in our house in Belgium.

From time to time I buy some to feel connected to my father, because of their decorative value and because I do intend to play the records I buy. I just don’t have a record player at present. Will probably change that some time soon. There’s something unbeatably cosy about putting on a vinyl record, especially while spending time with people you love.

Never thought I would find a vinyl record of the band Kyuss at a Slovak book market.

Also fun: when I was about to pay for them I wanted to offer to pay a little less for them. Amazingly the